Reason to Believe
by mariko05
Summary: Gillian is tired of giving Cal second chances.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Reason to Believe

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything about _Lie to Me_. Also, Global TV (Canada) website has an excellent gallery of Tim Roth demonstrating the seven universal micro-expressions: anger, happiness, contempt, sadness, surprise, disgust and fear.

**Chapter One**

"Oi, Foster, what's this luv?" Cal calls out to me, waving around a single piece of paper, manically.

The clicking of my heels stops mid step, and I turn around to face him, hands resting firmly on my hips in defiance. "My resignation."

Cal shakes his head in puzzlement and disbelief, eyebrows furrowed. "What, _now_?"

I honestly don't understand his incredulity; like he hasn't given me enough reasons to resign for the past three years. I try to keep my personal and professional lives separate. But being partners? That's both personal and professional. Not only am I responsible for the company's wellbeing, but also for Cal's. Without Cal, The Lightman Group wouldn't be in existence. I used to look forward to going in to work, now I'm worried that Cal's gambling problem has returned, our company's going bankrupt, and worst of all, that Cal doesn't care. But the situation with Detective Wallowski, aside, I've stood by him, being supportive, whereas, when Alec and I divorced he told me to, "Buck up, mate," while giving me a pat on the back. That's it. He never brought it up again.

"Well, didn't you read it?" I ask him out of curiosity.

"Of course, I didn't read it!"

"You knew what it was then?"

My answer is met with complete silence. Yet, he doesn't have to say another to give away what he's feeling. His lips are tight with a frown, and curled upwards on one side. Contempt.

I smirk, "Well, goodbye Cal." I turn to walk away, taking a big stride, when I hear him rip up the sheet of paper. Then, I turn back around to face him. Absolutely everyone, including two male clients from a casino stop in their tracks. You could cut the tension with a knife. _This is so like Cal_, I remember thinking, _to make a scene in front of everyone_. Cal lives on dramatics.

"We're partners, remember?"

It's been a while since I've heard desperation apparent in Cal's voice.

"How could I forget? You remind me every two minutes," I reply with disgust. "But you like to play games. Cat and mouse. I'm tired, Cal. I'm tired of being your mouse."

Cal's eyes narrow. "When I said that to you, I meant I was the mouse that everyone seems to be chasing."

"Oh, really? _You're _the mouse? _You_? _Cal_? Nobody thinks that. Do you want to know why?"

"You're going to tell me anyways, aren't ya?"

He's right. I am.

"Cal, you have to be the predator. It's who you are. It's in your blood. You hunt things down."

He looks on stony faced, not giving away anything. I continue. "Meanwhile, I'm being chased by your ghosts of recent past, and I protect you from it."

"Yeah, you protect me. That's what partners do."

I give Cal a weak smile through the tears that are forming in my eyes. "Then how come it's so one-sided? That doesn't sound like a partnership to me."

Cal shakes his head, disappointed. Instead of answering my accusations, he walks towards the elevators.

"Cal!" I call out, distressed. "Cal, don't you dare walk away from me."

Still, nobody moves. Probably afraid if they get in Cal's way, they're fired. Which is probably, too true. He likes to leave the threat of their jobs in the air. _Keeps them on their toes_, he's told me, _to do a good job_. I think he prefers when people (in general) are frightened of him; he gets off on bullying people around. He plays _bad cop_, and I play _good cop_. He tells me it's a good balance, but I think he uses it as an excuse to exploit whatever weakness shows on my face.

Cal keeps walking down the hall, ignoring all the concerned looks from the rest of his staff.

Frustrated, I make a split second decision to go after him. "Cal!"

He is already at the elevators, pressing the button three times in quick succession. I know he's praying I won't catch up. I'm determined to catch up to him.

Everyone at the elevator is holding their breaths to see what Cal is going to do next. The entire staff is watching the numbers...21...20...19...18...and then, ding, the door to the elevator opens and nobody moves, except for Cal. He walks in, looks me straight in the eye, moves to press the button for the ground floor, and smiles triumphantly as the doors close.

"Damn it," I sigh. I'm looking around the room, incredibly annoyed for making a scene at work. I'm usually more professional than this. After the doors close, I look around the hall, which is still quiet. "Well," I snap, "Get back to work."

Even those who were waiting at the elevator shifts away and tries to make themselves look busy. Loker and Torres, however, are still staring at me, open-mouthed in shock. "What?" I snap at them.

"Nothing," Loker answers a little too quickly. Like either he's up to something or knows something.

I sigh, defeated. "Why didn't you stop him?"

"What? And get between you and Cal? No, thanks."

Still frustrated and angry, I punch the elevator button, hard.

"What's going on, Foster? What's with you and Cal?"

"None of your business."

"Okay, fair enough, it's none of my business. However," he points out, "if you expect my help, I want to know whether I'm risking my job to do it. I think that's a fair assumption, since, you know, it's Cal we're talking about. Oh, and, I don't want to get between a lover's quarrel."

"What?" I ask, surprised. "A lover's quarrel? That's not what this is."

Loker tilts his head, then replies, "Your eyes say otherwise."


	2. Chapter 2

** Notes**: The bit about "beating the truth" out of someone is borrowed from _Veronica Mars_, which is another show I'm super _obsessed_ and completely _in love_ with. I couldn't believe it when I saw Jason Dohring play the psycho grad student. He's good at playing creepy, but Tim Roth is better. Oh, and I was so excited to see David Sutcliffe play an escaped convict turned cult leader from Toronto.

**Chapter Two**

Celebrating, Cal is sitting in the dark by himself, nursing a whiskey, his drink of choice for this evening. After staring at the glass for nearly twenty minutes, he gulps the drink, and pours himself another, and another, and another. He wants to be mind numbingly drunk. Drunk enough to forget about Dr. Foster. Forget about his best friend. Forget about the best thing that ever happened to him since Em.

**333**

**Flashback...Friday...Conference (or rather, confrontation) with myself, Cal, and our lawyers...**

Around two pm, I catch up to Cal. "You're late for our meeting. Our lawyers are waiting."

Loker and Torres are huddled in a corner watching the conference room. Eyes shifting from the conference room door to the hallway in anticipation. I could have sworn that I had given them a task to do, but per usual, they've found a way to do nothing.

"Mom and dad," Torres jokes halfheartedly, "are getting a divorce."

"You don't think?"

"Where are they? Lightman usually loves confrontations."

"Excellent, young grasshopper. You're learning quickly. But Lightman only likes it if he's going to win. This is a toss up. After all, it is Gillian."

They both are silenced as they become witnesses to me practically hauling Cal's ass into the conference room. Cal's dragging his feet, per usual. _Help me_, Cal begs of Torres and Loker. I can see it out of the corner of my eye. Instead of confronting him, I push him through the door.

Cal nods at his lawyer before sitting down across from me.

"Okay, Mr. Lightman," begins my lawyer.

"What did you say you're name is?" Cal interrupts.

I roll my eyes at his stalling tactics. "Seriously, Cal? Enough," I scold him.

"You know, Gill, there's just a flicker of doubt in his eyes."

"Doubt?"

"That you'll get what you want."

"What I want is to dissolve this partnership, so I can get on with my life."

"You're not really being truthful, are you? I know why you're doing this. _Do you_? Do you remember the exact instant that you wanted _this_ to end?" Cal waves at The Lightman Group offices, studying my reaction intensely.

"Of course, I do. It's when you threatened that if I mess with your finances, we're history."

"Errrr," he imitates the sound of a game show buzzer when the contestant is wrong. "Wrong answer. Care to try again?"

"No, Cal. Just sign the damn papers."

"Not until I beat the truth outta ya."

I fold my arms across my chest in defense, and anger. "Contrary to popular opinion, you can't really beat the truth out of someone."

I sigh dramatically (I'm doing this a lot lately), then ask the lawyers to leave for a minute. Simultaneously, Loker and Torres give each other a look of pure joy and race each other into the lab, logging into the Conference Room video.

I look up at the camera. "Didn't I give you something to do? If not, you can start with the casino case. This is just between myself and Cal." Then, suddenly, I override the system and the Conference Room video dies.

I can only imagine the look of bewilderment on Loker and Torres' faces to discover that both Cal and I can override surveillance videos in each room. But, I digress, getting back to the conference.

"Gill?"

I look towards the door, and Cal instantly blocks my only way out. I purse my lips in controlled anger. "Fine," I snap. "I'm leaving because you're driving this company into the ground, and I helped you build it; I refuse to be the one who watches you demolish it. Not only that, you're losing the loyalty of _our_ employees. Honestly Cal, you're a bully and people aren't going to take that much longer, especially Loker. He has such potential, but you abuse him! Like you abuse me! You yelled at him for borrowing a pen, then punched him in the stomach."

"A) Those were two separate incidents, and B) He kissed Em!" Cal gets defensive.

"Maybe so, but why did you resort to violence?"

"Are you my shrink now, _Mother Superior_?" He spits at me.

That bit hurt. Physically hurt. In my heart. I _know_ how he feels about shrinks. He _hates_ self-affirmation, and that's exactly what psychologists are good at extracting.

"Would you stop it, Cal! I'm tired of our bickering! I told you the reason, now you have to sign the damn papers!" I shove them in his face, and call back the lawyers.

"Is that it?" he yells back at me. "Nothing more you'd like to add?"

I ignore him, like I usually do, whilst staring straight ahead of me, and Cal's lawyer beckons him to sit down. Cal swats him away.

"I'm not a moron, Gillian," he leans over the table to say right in my face. Searching my eyes, he tells me, "I can _see_ something else is bothering you. But what is it, huh?"

I continue to look straight ahead at Cal's lawyer. Ignorance is bliss, right?

"Our finances?" Nothing.

"Our client list," I twitch, but if he asks I'll say I'm itchy. He doesn't.

"Our clients, then."

"FBI?" Nothing.

"Wealthy? Wealthy women? Wealthy women that want to sleep with me?" my eyes narrow slightly, almost too quickly for him to pick it up. After all, he constantly reminds me that I'm his blind spot, and I know for a fact that he's mine. Otherwise, I would have left this partnership a _long_ time ago.

"Clara? Naomi?" He couldn't pick up on anything discernible. "Okay, okay...they don't bother you as much. How about...hmm...Detective Wallowski?"

I noticeably flinch this time. I really, really hate her. Or maybe not her, but the situation that she put us through. Now, we're all lying on Cal's behalf. That's not what this company's about, but it's what it's become. I'm not even sure if Cal really likes her, or if he's just using her for sex. I don't think I even care. Scratch that. I care. If I didn't, I wouldn't be so angry, right? Right?

"Thought so."

Cal sits down and pretends that nothing's happened. That nothing's changed. Even though everything's changed.

"I've made a few adjustments," Cal's lawyer informs me. "That's the best offer you're going to get from us."

Out of the corner of my eye, my lawyer nods "yes."

"Okay, then. I'll draw up the finished papers, you'll sign them and in a couple hours, Mr. Lightman, the company will be all yours."

"Like it says on the sign," he whispers bitterly.

**333**

It is after ten pm that Friday evening when Emily stumbles into her dark house with her boyfriend, Rick, giggling hysterically about something that he said. She quiets right down, when they enter the house, cautioning Rick that her dad may be home.

"Oh, come on, Em. I can't take a quick peek at your bedroom?" She's told me that Rick's been bugging her about this for weeks now. But she holds her ground, being a tough girl and all.

The lights suddenly turn on and Cal is standing in the doorway of the kitchen, completely and utterly drunk, with wild eyes, unruly hair, livid.

"You," he points at Emily. "To your room."

"You," he points at Rick. "Come with me."

Rick shifts his gaze, nervous.

Emily pleads, "Please don't scare him. _Dad_!"

"I won't say it again. Go to your room."

Once Emily disappears, Cal grabs Rick by the scuff of his neck and leads him into his study.

"See this?" Cal shoves a picture of a preschool age Emily in Rick's face. "That's my little girl. If you do anything to screw with her, I'll screw with you. _Are we clear_?"

Rick looks down again, but doesn't say anything.

"Are we clear?" shouts Cal, spraying spit in Rick's face.

Rick wipes it off and hesitantly looks up at Cal.

"We're clear."

"Good," Cal pats him on the back. "Off you go, then."

**333**

Meanwhile, in her room, Emily calls my cell phone.

"Gillian," Emily whispers. "Dad's drunk again. He's scaring me. Will you come over?"

"I...I don't know, Em." Emily hears the hesitation in my voice. "Your father and I aren't on the best of terms."

Emily begins to sob quietly. "I'm afraid he's going to be violent."

"I'll be..."

But before I even finish my sentence, Cal has already plucked Emily's cell phone from her hand, asking angrily, "Now, who might you be calling?"

When he sees my number, he tells me that everything is fine, just a domestic dispute. I think part of the reason he's angry is that Emily called me and not her mother, although you'd think that would make Zoe angry, not Cal. I've taken care of Cal when he's been drunk before. Like this. It doesn't happen too often, but once in a while, when he's depressed about something, he'll either gamble or drink, or both. It's not pretty.

"No, Cal. I'm still coming over."

"No need. I promise you that."

"Emily asked me. I'll make sure she's okay and then I'll be gone. I'll use my key."

"I'll...I'll...change the locks."

"_Please_...in ten minutes?"

Pissed, Cal tosses the phone to the other side of the room. He yells about how irresponsible it is to bring a boy home, even if he is her boyfriend.

"Do you know what happens next, luv? _Do you know_?"

Fired up with latent anger, she yells, "Of course I know! You don't think I'm prepared for that?"

"No," he yells, "I don't! You're only sixteen!"

"Meaning I have to grow up at some point!"

"You don't know what it feels like to be a grad student one minute, hanging out at a party, and the next minute you're picking out baby names."

"Oh, and you do, do you?"

Grabbing her by the shoulders, hoping to shake some sense into her, he sobers up for a minute. "Growing up is about more than just sex!" He let's go of her shoulders, defeated. "I know you're growing up, Em. I just wish I didn't have to lose my baby in the process."

Emily shows a slight hint of a smile through her tears. "Really?"

"Really."

"I'm still mad at you dad," she says, almost jokingly.

Cal gives Emily a big bear hug. They both hear my keys rattling and twist of the knob.

"Emily?" I call out to a dark house. "Cal?"

Emily races into the kitchen, and I embrace her.

"Are you okay? Did he hit you?"

"I'm fine. Dad and I just had a misunderstanding."

I raise my eyebrows. "A misunderstanding? That's why you called me at ten-thirty to come over?"

Emily gives a quiet giggle. "What? Were you sleeping?"

I give a tight smile. "With someone?" asks Emily, with just a hint of disappointment.

Cal saunters into the room. "What now, Foster? Care to resign, again?"

I hug Emily close to me, protecting her. "How drunk are you?"

"You resigned?" Emily asks looking up at me, truly surprised by this revelation.

I glare at Cal. "I wanted to tell you myself. I'm going away for a little while."

"But," Emily chokes up. She whispers, "But my dad's the happiest when you're around."

"I don't think he is anymore."

"Dad," Emily pleads with him, "Tell her."

Cal scowls. "_Tell her_."

Cal doesn't say a word.

"I don't think that's true anymore, Em. I'm going to get going, but you're still welcome to stay with me tonight, if you want. I don't leave until Monday."

"Monday?" Emily asks in shock. "You were just going to leave?"

"Of course not!" I reassure her. "I was going to wait for the right moment."

"When would the _right _moment be? It's Friday night! You'd likely be calling me from the plane!"

The lights go on in her head; I see the wheels working. "Why don't you spend the weekend with us? We'll cook, rent movies, play board games..."

"As much fun as..."

"Please?"

"I don't know."

"How long are you gone for?"

"My contract is for a year."

"Where are you going? Will you be close by?"

I look at her sheepishly. "Not really. The company is based in London, England."

"Here's the deal. If you maintain your straight A's for the rest of the year, I'll pay for you to come visit me and I'll take you to see the sites...you know, Stone Henge, that kind of thing. You'll love it. I promise."

"But...you'll still spend the weekend with us, right? It's just two days, and dad...dad will _promise_ to be on his best behaviour. I swear." Emily looks over at him, "Right, dad?"

Cal's face doesn't lend a hint of emotion as he replies, "Right." Which in Cal "speak" means maybe.

I hate ambushes. "Let me call you tomorrow morning with the answer. Is that okay?"

Emily smiles, a truly genuine smile. "Perfect."

Emily gives me a bear hug, and thanks me for coming, but Cal backs away when I move towards him.

"I'm doing this for Emily. Don't think anything's changed," he warns me.

When I turn to leave, Emily notices a hint of sadness, regret, loss and love play across her father's face. She thinks there is still hope for Cal and I yet.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

After Emily hears her father go to bed around two in the morning, she's still staring at the stars on her ceiling, wondering what her father had done to make me want to leave.

I roll around fitfully in bed, haunted by Emily's disappointment and Cal's misery. I love them both, dearly. Cal is truly my best friend, and Emily is like the daughter I may never have.

Surrounded by complete darkness, Cal pours himself another drink, downs it and goes to bed.

**333**

Emily wakes up to the sound of pancakes, bacon, and eggs sizzling in the frying pan.

"Oh, morning dad," Emily kisses Cal's cheek. "Is this," she points to the food, "apology for yesterday?"

"And what if it is?"

"I accept," she says with a smile. "Oh, and by the way, I'm calling Gillian."

Cal scowls.

"Charming," Emily informs him sarcastically. "How is Gillian going to resist you now? Maybe you should clean up a bit."

"So, are you telling me Foster's superficial? She's only using me for my good looks?"

Emily rolls her eyes. "Don't you get tired of sleeping around?"

"No, not really," Cal admits.

"Don't you find it hypocritical of you to tell me I can't have sex, when you're doing it with two other women at once?"

"No, not really."

"Stop being so indifferent!" Emily yells at him. "Don't you want to fall in love again, or has mom done such a number on you?"

Cal wraps Emily in his arms. "I love you, Em, but you're playing with fire."

"Dad, I don't know if you're keeping an arm's distance away from Gillian because of me or mom, but it's gotta stop."

"Ya don't think it's because of me?"

"Dad, I _know _you. She makes you happy."

Cal looks like he wants to interrupt, correct her, but he doesn't.

"I _know_ mom made you happy too. But Gillian, she's not like mom. She adores you, _for you_. For you're brilliance, even though it drives me insane sometimes. I think you should apologize, for whatever you did, because I know it was you, and beg forgiveness."

"She'll still leave."

Emily looks up at her dad, still in the hug. Sadness clouds over her face. "I know."

**333**

**Flashback...Clara Musso's case...I'm leaning in the doorframe of Cal's office...**

My arms are folded across my chest, lips pursed, stiff stance; Cal's reading my anger.

"You're angry," he states.

"What's _wrong_ with you?" I ask, ignoring him.

"What do you mean?" Cal plays innocent.

"Do I have to spell it out for you. You're sleeping with our client."

"Is that what you're annoyed about, luv? 'Cause she's a big girl."

I narrow my eyes.

"Or is it something else?" He strides towards me until he's right in my face, searching my eyes. I find his method really unsettling. "You're jealous, aren't you?"

**333**

Emily presses the phone up to her ear and dials my number from memory. Ever since Cal's divorce, he's been drinking more and more heavily. Thankfully, it's dwindled down to occasionally, but she still calls when he gets to scary for her to deal with on her own.

"Morning, Gillian."

"Morning," I yawn.

"Oh, it's eight," Emily states, as if just looking over at the time. "I'm sorry if it's too early. I was wondering if you were still up to spending the day with dad and I?"

"Oh," I sound surprised.

"You forgot," I can hear the disappointment in Emily's voice.

"I did, but...could we make it just you and me?"

"Dad's fine now. I promise."

"It's not that, sweetheart. It's just that you're dad and I are having trouble seeing eye to eye."

"I know, but..."

"He can't keep playing games. We're too old for that."

"I've tried talking to him."

"I know you have, and that's sweet of you. But you're dad and I need to work it out on our own terms."

"Okay, I get it; you and dad aren't ready to make up. Will I see you in twenty?"

"Make it forty, I need to shower first."

Emily has no idea how she's going to break this news to her father. _So she didn't_.

**333**

"Hey Em," I call out when I enter Cal's house.

Cal looks up from writing the first sentence of his second book.

"Em's not here," Cal informs me.

"What?" I say in surprise, shock and a little bit of anger.

"She left about ten minutes ago. Said something about buying tickets for an art gallery exhibit today."

"What? She didn't mention that."

"_She left ten minutes ago_," he enunciates the words, speaking slowly, making sure that it sinks in.

Emily left us _alone_. I couldn't believe it. Especially after I specifically asked her not to.

"Well, are you staying, luv?" Cal asks me as I turn to leave.

"Why would I stay?"

"Well, for starters, since you promised Emily."

I raise my eyebrows. "I promised Emily. _Not you_."

"But I'm here now, and she's nowhere to be found."

"Was that deliberate, then? Did you pay her?" Gillian accuses him, angrily.

"Why so angry, luv?" Cal deflects. "Afraid to be alone with me?"

**333**

"Can I hang out with you for a bit?" Emily asks her boyfriend, Rick. She goes to visit him at home to make sure he isn't too shaken up after yesterday's debacle.

"Yeah, sure," Rick shrugs, "...But I thought today is the big day?"

"For my dad."

"Are you sure that's a good idea to leave them alone together. He's..."

"_He's_...?" Emily probes.

"_Crazy_?"

"Is that a question?" Emily folds her arms, asking him angrily.

"Come on, Em. You're father isn't exactly friendly, is he?"

"How perceptive," she answers him sarcastically.

**333**

Crossing my arms, I sit down, still angry. I don't really want to, but I'm not sure Emily will forgive me if I get up and leave, without even waiting for a few minutes. But I'm not going to stay long, I promised myself that much.

"Breakfast?"

Ignoring him, I ask, "What's going on, Cal? It's been almost fifteen minutes."

Ignoring me, he slides a plate of pancakes, syrup and bacon in front of me. "Eat up."

I don't touch any of the food. He's probably poisoned it, just to spite me.

"Are we going to address the elephant in the room, or what?"

"Your resignation?"

"What else?"

"Would it make a difference to tell you what I think?"

"Why should it?"

"Are we just going to keep on deflecting?"

I stand up. "This is pointless, Cal. I'm trying to be civil to you, but it's not working, so tell Emily, sorry, but I have stuff to do. Stuff to pack."

As I'm about to walk out the door, Emily enters.

"Oh, hey, Gillian, where are you going?" she asks, eyebrows raised, surprised.

"Don't act so surprised, Em. I told you, your father and I aren't getting along, yet you still left me here for half and hour with him. Alone."

Emily shrugs. "I just...I just thought you two needed some time to work stuff out."

I laugh incredulously. "Did you think we were going to kiss and make up?"

Emily looks over to her father, then back at me.

"You did, didn't you?"

Cal says nothing. It's a rare occasion when the mighty Cal Lightman has _nothing _to say.

"What's going on?" I yell. I hate being left in the dark.

"Cal!"

Cal looks from his daughter to me, and then stands up. Gripping my shoulders, shaking me, he yells, "What is it you want from me? Huh?"

"How about the truth for once," I tell him unfazed. I think that caught him off guard for a second.

"The truth?"

"Yes, the truth. That would be nice."

"I need you. There is no way around that. _I need you_. You hold my company together, but more importantly, you hold me together."

Emily smiles. "You know, Gillian, that's the closest you're going to get to having him admit he's in love with you."

We both look over at her. "You're still here?"

"Oh, right..." Emily looks embarrassed. "You two are having a moment. Sorry. I'll leave now."

When Emily leaves the room, Cal turns back to me.

I'm still not convinced. "So, what? You've changed your ways?"

"Never."

"Then why do you need me around?"

Cal rubs his cheek. It's like I slapped him in the face.

"_Why do you need me around_!" I yell at him, in his face. "Are you trying to make me feel guilty? It's not gonna work!"

"Because you keep me in line!" Cal fires back.

Defeated, shoulders slump. With a disappointed attitude, "That's it, then? That's what I mean to you? I'm just _Mother Superior_, aren't I?"

Tears begin well up in my eyes, and a couple roll down my cheeks.

"Don't cry. Jesus, don't cry, luv."

Cal attempts to wipe the tears away.

"What do you want to hear? That I love you? 'Cause I do," Cal admits with a soothing, gentle voice.


	4. Chapter 4

**Note**: The song in this chapter is Rod Stewart's _Reason to Believe_.

**Chapter Four**

Softly, I hear music begin to play.

_If I listen long enough to you, I'll find a way to believe that it's all true. Knowing, that you lied, straight faced while I cried. Still, I look to find a reason to believe._

Eyebrows furrowed, slightly open mouthed. "You love me?"

"Of course I do," Cal admits.

"I love you too."

I mean honestly, anyone could've made the same mistake I did. Anyone. I swear.

Cal gives me a slight smile. I'm sure it's the best he can do under the circumstances. "I know."

He lets go of my shoulders and pulls me into a hug, his arms resting around my waist. Meanwhile, I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing my body close to his, feeling the warmth emanating from his body, and I rest my head on his shoulders. Slowly, we begin to sway to the music.

_Someone like you, makes it hard to live without, somebody else. Someone like you makes it easy to give, never think about myself._

It's nice, the silence between us. Right now we're simply happy just swaying to the music, not thinking about the circumstance that got us here.

_If I gave you time to change my mind, I'd try to leave all the past behind. Knowing, that you lied, straight faced while I cried. Still, I look to find a reason to believe._

In the back of my mind I figure that Emily's behind this matchmaking. If I'm smart, I would have already guessed; should've already known. Cal isn't the type of person to apologize with a song. He's not that creative, however, his daughter certainly is.

_Someone like you, makes it easy to live without, somebody else. Someone like you makes it hard to give, never think about myself. Still I look to find a reason to believe._

We're still swaying, even after the music has ended, noticing the uncomfortable silence is setting in. When we stop dancing, I can still feel the heat of his body, more intensified. I'll blame the romantic atmosphere. I'll blame the music. I'll even blame Emily.

As if in slow motion, I stand up on my tip toes, licking my lips in anticipation, gently gripping his left arm with my right hand, and finally, pressing my lips to his.

Cal gently pushes me away. "Gill!"

"What's wrong?"

"What are you doin'?"

"I thought you love me?"

"I do, I do," he assures me. "But I'm not _in love_ with you."

_What?_ It takes me a minute for the information to sink in. Meanwhile, it's like I'm frozen in time. I look like I'm about to throw up, or die from embarrassment. Or both.

"I...I...I'm sorry," I say, backing towards the door. When I bump into the kitchen sink, I knock over a bunch of clean dishes and trip over my purse. This is enough humiliation for one day. I make a run for the door without looking back.

"Gill!" I hear him yell. But tears have already threatened to surface, and I've promised myself not to show Cal anymore weakness than I already have. He doesn't need the ammunition. I stumble finding my keys for a minute, discovering them in a side pocket of my purse. The car door beeps open, and I slide inside, slamming the door behind me. By now, Cal's already at the front door yelling stuff. But it's muffled; I can't really hear him anymore. What, with my body wrenching sobs, and tears streaming down my face. I wipe away my tears, and drive away. The last thing I hear Cal yelling is, "Gill! You can't leave without saying goodbye!"

**333**

I'm already outside, when Emily steps out of the shadows and stands beside her father. "Dad?"

Cal looks down at her. "Yeah?" He's still in a bit of shock from what happened.

"What did you do?" Emily asks him accusingly. Without waiting for an answer. "Aren't you gonna go after her?"

From behind the kitchen door, Emily hears Cal call out to me, "Gill! You can't leave without saying goodbye!"

**333**

I'm safe now. No Cal, no Emily. Ensconced on my living room couch, I settle in to watch reruns of _Grey's Anatomy_. During the first commercial break, I get up to pour myself a cup of tea. Sipping it at the counter, I decide that today deserves something a little bit stronger - some Irish Whiskey. _Ah_, I think, _that's better_. After downing the tea, and then pouring myself another, I end up falling asleep on the couch until after four pm.

I scold myself. I should really be packing. _Don't I have a trip to go on_? I don't really feel like leaving the comfort of my couch, but I venture into my room to pull out my oversized, over priced Louis Vuitton suitcase. I line up the entire line. Large suitcase, medium suitcase and carry-on bag. Unlike most travellers, I like to be prepared. All of my clothes have been neatly folded, make up separated into little baggies, footwear, underwear, and all travel documents have been set aside for about a week.

I sit down, thinking about the events that lead up to this moment...

**Flashback #1...Cal gets physical on the eve of his mother's suicide, take 10...**

"Gillian?"

"Oh, hey Joe. I'll be right over."

Joe's the owner and bartender of the small pub that Cal frequents, quite often lately, leading up to the anniversary of his mother's suicide. Ever since Joe discovered my business card in the breast pocket of Cal's jacket the first year since his divorce, I've been volunteered to drive him home every year. It was Zoe's burden before that. It takes me less than five minutes to drive, since it's right around the corner from work. At least Cal thinks conveniently.

"Another," Cal slurs.

"Sorry, buddy. You're being cut off."

"Another," he bangs the shot glass on the table. The noise echos across the empty pub.

"Do you know what time it is?" Joe asks, ignoring him. "After four. Do you know when we close? Two."

The clap, clap, clap of my heels is all I can hear when I enter the pub. "Hey Joe. How's business?" I ask, casually.

"Not bad. It would be even better if you can get him outta here."

"Sure thing," I say to him. Then I face Cal. "Come on, Cal. Let's go."

"Another," he bangs the shot glass on the table, again. Joe grabs the shot glass from him.

Both of us take hold of Cal under his arms and lift him up. He's not light. Cal's not making it any easier, 'cause he's decided to fight us off, twisting from side to side. Finally, after ten minutes we make it to my car in the parking lot. We shove him inside, whereby, he begins to puke up the contents of his drinks.

"Perfect," my sarcasm still evident, even though I'm still half asleep. "I won't be able to breathe in my car for the next year and a half."

Joe gives me a hug. "Good luck with that one," he nods in Cal's direction. "See you next year."

A wave of nausea hits me when I slide into my car. I try to hold my breath, but I'm having trouble driving at the same time. We arrive at Cal's in record time, thank god, twenty minutes to a dark and empty house. It's nice of Zoe to take Emily every year on this weekend.

"Let's get you up," I yawn, yanking Cal by the waist. I didn't realize that Cal would still be in fighting mode. With one swift kick to my stomach I'm down on the pavement. It takes me a minute to recover, but then, even more determined this time, I yank Cal, hard, by the waist and he slides to the right side to the car. Then, I slide his right arm across my shoulders. He sways to the right side, and I wobble a little bit before steadying my balance. Thinking I've won this battle, I relax a little. I have a feeling this is what Cal anticipated would happen. Turning Cal to the side, I struggle with opening the door, and shifting us both into the hallway and towards the couch. Suddenly, Cal shoves me against the wall in the hallway.

"Don't you dare rescue me again."

Then he drunkenly sways into the living room and flops down on the couch, falling asleep instantly. I crumble to the ground in anxiety and fear, shaking.

Two days later at work, he's his normal self again, the "incident" forgotten. It's never mentioned, but I'll never forget it. Next time I'm bringing Agent Reynolds with me.

**Flashback #2...The lie...Cal knows which one...Detective Wallowski...**

"That's brilliant, that is," Cal praises Detective Wallowski's lie, alone in his bedroom.

**333**

Cal, Loker, Agent Jenkins and I are standing outside of the cube, listening to Torres' interrogation of Detective Wallowski.

"You knew about Farr's relationship with Marco Swarez?"

"We're meant to form relationships with street level dealers," Wallowski replies emotionless.

"But did you know he was helping Swarez commit crimes?"

"No. I didn't know anything about that." _Lie_. But Cal doesn't call her on it, probably because he's the one that coached her to begin with.

"But you _do_ know that he beat Prince John to cover his relationship with Swarez, to support Swarez's move to control the Nine Sixes."

"Now that he's confessed, sure, I guess." Torres crosses her arms; none of us are really buying her act, and Agent Jenkins has no clue what to think. Both Cal and I are at the opposite sides of the spectrum.

Loker looks over at Cal suspiciously. He _knows_ something is up. Nobody lies that brilliantly except for Cal, himself.

"Is Detective Farr a good father to his children?"

"Which ones?"

"To his regular, family ones."

"You mean his white ones?" Wallowski argues.

"Don't deflect the question, Detective."

"I'm sorry, what was the question again?" Torres looks about to argue with her. "Oh yeah, he's incredible with his kids."

Now both myself and Agent Jenkins look over at him. I _know_ he's coached her. How else could she pass the test so cleverly.

"Well, don't look at me, Loker. Give it to 'em, straight," Cal smirks.

Loker raises his eyebrows, pressing his lips together. He leans back. "I got nothing, here. Zip."

"Was Wallowski in on this with Farr, or not?"

"She's been coached," I say, partly out of spite and partly because it's the truth.

"Or maybe she's clean," Cal argues. _Yeah, right_ I think to myself.

"You call yourselves scientists?"

"You call cops who disagree, cops, right?"

"Unless one of them's dirty."

"Well, she's saying Wallowski's clean," I look over at him with disdain. "Aren't ya, Dr. Foster?"

I walk out without saying a word. I'm beyond pissed at Cal right now.

"Oi," Cal walks after me. "What are you walking away for? That's not right, don't do that."

"Never mind." My anger is verging into rage, and I don't really want to explode, but if he presses...

"I'm not goin' anywhere, Gill, so let's have it."

"What do you see in her, Cal?"

"I'd done the same thing for my partner. It's called loyalty."

"That's kind of ironic, from where I'm standing."

"Well?" Agent Jenkins asks, "Is Wallowski lying?"

"Yes, absolutely...Farr's not a good dad, she's covering for him. As for the rest of it, she's not lying. She didn't know anything about Swarez, or any of it." I hate myself for lying. I feel like a fraud, and Cal's made me feel this way. It needs to end.

Agent Jenkins is confused. She turns to Cal. "Dr. Lightman?"

"Yeah, she's clean."

I stride down the hall towards the elevators, and Cal strides towards his office in the opposite direction, leaving Agent Jenkins standing in an empty hallway utterly confused.

**Flashback #3...I'm sitting in Cal's office, in his chair, gazing out into the street staring at nothing in particular. Waiting for Cal to return, per usual...**

"Hi, Cal," I greet him, swivelling around in his chair. "Just the man I'm waiting for."

"Whatcha ya doin' in my chair?" Cal asks, angrily.

"Waiting for you, silly," I answer him, condescendingly. "What does the FBI want with you?"

Cal's eyes narrow. "Nothin' that concerns you."

"Wrong. Anything and everything that concerns this company also concerns me."

"You mean _my_ company. It says Lightman on the wall, doesn't it?" Cal makes a show of walking to the door to check on the sign. Ouch, that hurt.

"Yeah, you're right, it does. But what it doesn't say is that you needed my family's money in order to create this company. Isn't that right?"

Cal scowls. He doesn't respond, 'cause he knows I'm right.

"I don't need you," he spits at me.

"You don't need me?" I ask incredulously.

"I can deal with everything just fine."

"Well, who is the one who lines up all your clients? Who takes care of your books? Who looks after you when you're so out of it, you flop onto the coach and can't remember what you did the day before? Huh? Who helps you then?"

"I don't need you," he repeats.

"Fine. You don't need me. I'll leave." I get up off the chair and walk out the door. "Good riddance."


	5. Chapter 5

**Note**: The line, "You know, mean kids, indifferent teachers, crumbling infrastructure" is borrowed from _Veronica Mars_. Also, since I'm not very creative, Bethlem Royal Hospital is recognized as the world's first and oldest psychiatric institution to specialize in the mentally vulnerable.

**Chapter Five**

"So, she's gone," Emily reminds Cal early Monday morning.

"Yeah."

**333**

Cal stares out his window, observing nothing. He believes he should feel something, anything, since today is a momentous day. Today is the first day of The Lightman Group without me. Sitting on the plane, feeling lonely, I imagine what everyone is doing. Cal is sitting at his desk, frustrated, that he can't even form a simple sentence to start his book; Loker is out on the street at Lightman's suggestion, but isn't having much success...probably 'cause nobody's taking him seriously as anything other than a snobby rich kid; and Torres, she's interviewing potential clients that I've set up for them before I left.

_But here's what's really going on_:

Cal's silence is interrupted by Loker barging into Cal's office uninvited. "Lightman!" he barks. "Look at what happened to my face!"

Loker points to several purple cuts and bruises scattered across his face. Lightman glances at Loker's face and then turns back to the window, unconcerned.

After a few minutes, Lightman mutters, "I thought you weren't my problem anymore. What happened to the job hunt?"

"It's been temporarily stalled. You know, with the economy and all."

"Oh, yeah. _That_."

Cal's not taking his eyes off the street.

Loker approaches Cal's desk.

"You're hoping Foster's down there, aren't you? News flash, Lightman; you've lost your chance with her, she's long gone."

"Don't you have work you should being getting back to?" Cal snaps.

"You may not want to admit it, because then you'd be forced to face the fact that you drove your partner half way across the world," Loker suggests.

Cal doesn't look too pleased by his suggestion.

When Loker exits the office, Torres enters. "So, the partners of the firm that Foster set up want to meet you. I've already interviewed them, and besides some minor indiscretions, they all seem on the up and up."

"Why is it, that nobody knows how to knock anymore? Why were doors even invented if they don't keep out the unwanted?"

"Were those rhetorical questions?"

Cal swivels around in his chair to face her.

"So?" Torres asks. "Are you coming, or what?"

**333**

I hate flying. I have a pounding headache. My make up is smudged, feet are swollen, starving and a little tipsy from all the wine they offered me. They fed me, but it was so awful I hardly ate anything. The only bright side is that I caught a taxi on my first whistle, and the beautiful condo I rented is five minutes away from work. The interior is lovely cream, taupes, and dark brown. But my favourite thing of all, is the jacuzzi tub. I just know I'll spend many an hour soaking in it, unwinding. But first things first. I hate the way I left things with Cal and Emily (especially, Em), which was disastrous to say the least. I'm not sure if either of them will even be willing to hear me out.

Saturday night, when the caller ID claimed Emily was calling, I didn't pick up. Not once. Not twice. But _all _six times that she attempted to call. Instead, I ended up watching _The Notebook_, which was playing on TV, drinking copious amounts of red wine, stuffing my face with flavoured popcorn, and sniffling for myself and for Allie and Noah.

I set my laptop down on the kitchen table. I boot it up. I check the weather, my new work email, my old work email, and finally, my personal email.

I have five emails from my new employers. Two of the five emails are just, "welcome to the company" type ones. The last three are about Lightman and his work. Of course they are. I answer them right away.

I have no emails sitting in my work email. _What did you expect, Gillian?_ I say to myself.

I have no emails in my personal email either. I figure that both Cal and Emily are probably still furious with me. I should probably be the first to apologize.

I start to compose.

Dear Emily. _No, maybe not. Too formal._

Dear Em,

I'm sorry I ran out on you Saturday. I was looking forward to your fun filled day of board games and junk food. I don't really have an adequate excuse, why I ran out, so I hope you'll forgive me. I don't know if your dad told you the reason, but I guess I was just a little embarrassed. Anyways, I made it to London, and now that I'm here it's pouring rain, like nothing you'll ever see in Washington. I've attached a picture. I've also attached a picture of my lovely new home. It's a condo, really close to work. I'll be able to walk to work for once. I hope everything is well with you and your dad. Please pass along my love to everyone.

Love Gillian.

**333**

"How was school?" Cal asks, kissing the top of Emily's head.

"You know, mean kids, indifferent teachers, crumbling infrastructure."

"Oh, so you mean, same old, same old."

Emily shrugs, indifferently. "Basically, yeah."

**333**

Dear Gillian,

Of course I don't hate you! I understand why you had to leave. Actually, I saw what happened, dad didn't have to tell me. I don't think he _wants_ to talk about it. He walks around the office, and at home like a zombie now that you've gone. We all really miss you. You were neutral ground, Berlin, you might say. We don't have that anymore. Mom can't stand being around him. They're not even having sex anymore, can you believe it! Thanksgiving's coming up. It's going to be so weird not having you around like usual. I would say "Dad says hi" but I don't think you'd believe me. So I won't insult your intelligence. I think he's still a little upset about "the incident." Next time I'll call when dad's not around.

Love Em.

**333**

"Doctor Foster?" I stand up to smooth out my gray pencil skirt.

"Yes, that's me."

"It's nice to see you again, doctor," Director William Taylor extends his hand. I shake it. "Welcome to your first day at Bethlem Royal Hospital."


	6. Chapter 6

**Note**: First of all, Cal_ loves_ Gillian. He loves her as a friend, or maybe that's all he's trying to convince himself his love is right now, because he has all these other women he has to worry about too: Zoe, Emily and even Wallowski. I hope that puts the story in a little more perspective for you, and if not, I'm sorry that doesn't help. But I promise you, in the end, whenever I decide that will be, it will end with Gillian and Cal together (am I giving everything away?)

**Chapter Six**

It's been three months since I've started working at Bethlem Royal Hospital. I have to say, it's more nerve racking than I thought it would be.

"Who are you?"

Who am I? Good question. I'm not even sure myself.

"Please sit," I gesture to my patient to sit down on my couch. "My name is Dr. Foster."

"You're a shrink?"

Yes, I'm a shrink, or at least that's what the title reads on my door. I listen to people for a living, no matter how screwed up their lives. The screwed up, the better, in my opinion. However, right now, their lives can't be anymore screwed up than mine. I'm forty years old, single and feeling very lonely. Both cats and dogs have been attempted to be pawned off on me. Like I'm pathetic. This would never happen if I was still living in Washington. Living in the US I would be known as a career woman. Here, I'm known as the lady who can't get a date. Obviously, here, I'm also considered to be living through some kind of midlife crisis minus the sleek silver BMW and sexy rich husband, who happens to be fifteen years my junior.

"Where are they?"

Jessica Abbey, sixteen, has been committed into Bethlem Royal for six months now. Her parents dumped her here when they realized they couldn't handle her paranoid schizophrenia and deteriorating cognitive functions (which she suffered from a car accident). When I say dumped, I mean, literally signed the cheque and never looked back.

Jessica, disheveled, shows up to our sessions with unkempt hair, wrinkled clothes, typically refuses to take her pills until she meets with me. She thrashes against the nurses hold, and it usually takes three or four of them to hold her down. They don't feed her the pills anymore, 'cause she also bites. Nurse White has the scars to prove it. The nurse who brings her today shakes her head apologetically, and holds out Jessica's pills in the palm of her hand.

"I'll be back in half an hour," the nurse assures Jessica. The door closes behind her.

"You can sit down Jessica," I suggest to her, nodding towards my couch. I've read that playing along with her games will just antagonize her anxiety.

She ignores me. "You're American?"

"Yes," I admit honestly. "I've lived in Washington the majority of my adult life."

"You're American?" she repeats the question, concentrating on listening to my answer.

"Yes, I'm American."

"Why are you here?"

"I'm here to help."

"Liar! Where are the bugs?" Screaming, Jessica starts to crawl on the floor, searching the couch cushions, throwing books off the shelves. I let her. She calms down after five minutes, satisfied that she's searched every crook and cranny without seeing an electronic bug in sight.

"Jessica, do you know where you are?" I ask.

Jessica circles around the room in curiosity.

"I'm not at home," she observes.

"That's right. Do you know where you are?"

"What do you want?" Jessica's eyes widen in fear and shock.

"You're okay, Jessica. I'm here so you can talk everything out. What's going on today?"

**333**

Late Tuesday evening Cal is bored. He fiddles around with the keys on his keyboard, but they aren't forming legible words. His book isn't coming along _at all_.

The words "chapter one" has been reconfigured about eight times. Each time Cal is unsatisfied.

This evening texts from both Zoe and Wallowski have been ignored. He's not in the mood for drama, and he's not sure if he's in the mood for sex either. Not since Gillian's departure.

The final text is from an undisclosed number asking him if he wants in on a card game. He accepts immediately. Winning some money would definitely cheer him up. He guesses that whoever is behind the game doesn't remember, or doesn't know about his face reading abilities. Tonight is one of those nights where he is extremely relieved that Emily is staying with her mother.

His next cryptic text message informs him of the address of the warehouse that the card game is taking place. If Gillian were here, he thinks, I wouldn't even be thinking about gambling on cards. He probably would gamble on something else, but Loker suggested that it's too late. So now he's stuck gambling on cards. When he arrives at the warehouse with five thousand dollars in his pocket, he's immediately ushered to the poker table. He doesn't recognize anyone. He isn't even sure who the cryptic text message is from.

"Dr. Lightman?"

Cal turns around in his chair to face the speaker. Familiar scruff, dark hair, receding hairline...it's Ellis.

"I'm hiring you to teach these guys how to spot card counters."

"What do I get in return?"

"You won't have to worry about that," determination is written all over Ellis' face. "I'll compensate you generously."

**333**

"Aren't you glad you accepted my dinner invitation?"

Torres eyes sparkle in the candlelight. "You're right. You make macaroni and cheese brilliantly. Although I would be concerned if you screwed it up."

In response, Loker flings some mac and cheese from his fork at Torres, which lands on her forehead and then falls into her own bowl.

Torres scrunches up her face in pseudo disgust. "Oh, so that's how you wanna play? Game on."

In retaliation, she scoops an even bigger portion of mac and cheese onto her fork and flings it at Loker, who, foreseeing this, ducks. The mac and cheese hits his fridge and slides to the ground.

Loker gets her again, square on the forehead, again. Torres eyes narrow in determination. Before she's able to commit to her strategy, Loker picks up his bowl of mac and cheese and walks over to her. Torres' eyes grow wide.

"Don't you dare," she warns. Torres pushes back her chair into some cupboards. "Oh no! Don't!"

Loker dumps his bowl of mac and cheese over her head. "Loker!"

"Come on," he takes her by the shoulders. "You should probably wash it off."

"If you wanted to see me naked again, all you'd have to do is ask."

"Really?" Loker's eyes darken with lust.

"NO!" Torres replies, and laughs.

**333**

Bleep. Bleep. Bleep. I yank my alarm out of the socket and throw it, as far as I can, across my bedroom. Wednesday. I don't really feel like working.

"Gill? What's wrong?"

I think _he's_ what's wrong. I can't believe I got drunk _with him_ last night.

"I'm going to take a shower. It's probably best if you're not here when I get out."

Within seconds, I've peeled off all my clothes, and have started the tub, scalding hot, exactly how I like it.

Then, suddenly, my cell starts bleeping like crazy.

"Hey, Gill? Do you want me to answer it?"

Silence. Probably because I don't hear him ask me. I guess he takes my silence as a "yes." Just because we're friends, right? _Catch my sarcasm, here?_

He flips open my phone.

"Hello?"

Silence. But only for a second.

"Umm...I think I may have the wrong number," the young girl on the other end replies. They hang up. She calls back a minute later.

"Hello?"

"Gillian?"

"She's in the shower. Who's speaking?"

The young girl ignores him.

"Who're you?"


End file.
